He handed her the envelope.
A crackle of paper, then a long wait.
"I shall not read you this," she said finally in a strangled, suppressed voice. "Why not?" he demanded sharply.
"It contains things I would not have you know."
He felt the paper thrust into his hands, reached for her wrists, and pinioned them. For once his self-control had broken. His face was suffused with blood and dark with anger.
But his speech was cut short by an uproar from the camp. Cries, shrieks, shouts, yells, and the sound of running to and fro steadily increased in volume. It was a riot.
In vain Kingozi called for Cazi Moto and Simba. Finally he grasped his kiboko and started in the direction of the disturbance. The Leopard Woman sprang to his side, and guided him. He laid about him blindly with the kiboko, and in time succeeded in getting some semblance of order.
"Cazi Moto! Simba!" he shouted angrily.
"Bwana?" "Sah?" two panting voices answered.
"What is this?"